


Too Many Dragons, Not Enough Wine

by GypsySoul13



Series: Too Many Dragons, Not Enough Wine [1]
Category: Elder Scrolls V: Skyrim
Genre: Dragons, Helgen, Multi, Other, Prisoners, Skyrim - Freeform
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-12-27
Updated: 2017-12-27
Packaged: 2019-02-15 22:11:42
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,404
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13040490
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/GypsySoul13/pseuds/GypsySoul13
Summary: A Nordic merchant raised in Elswery is returning home for the first time since her family fled Skyrim when she was an infant. Her return doesn't go as expected when she is suddenly mistaken for a Stormcloak soldier upon entering Skyrim's borders. Death lingers before her but escape comes on black wings baring fire and destruction.





	Too Many Dragons, Not Enough Wine

**Author's Note:**

> Inspired by & based off of a Skyrim playthrough, containing both canon and non-canon filler.

She leaned against the cart as she kept eyes closed and breathed slow and steady. She moved slightly with the motion of the cart, letting it sway her body as they moved along the rough and rocky roads to wherever their destination was. There was a soft murmur of voices around her but none she recognized and all too low for her to follow the conversations. Her head throbbed while a dull ache settled into her chest and sides. Her fingertips felt like they were being pricked by hundreds of needles, a normality she was now used to that came from over using her fire spells.

She counted the bumps in the road as the cart rolled over loose stones and small holes until one rather large pothole caught the wheel and she almost fell out of her seat into the floor of the cart as they moved along. Her eyes shot open and a soft groan escaped her lips as she steadied herself again. Instead of closing her eyes she decided to look around and see who else was in the cart with her as well as try to figure out where they were from what she could remember from her maps.

An older man sat closest to the entrance of the cart beside her, his hands bound and mouth covered. He wore finer clothes and better quality armor that the guards hadn't bothered to remove when they relieved everyone of their weapons. Across from him sat a man in dirty and worn down prisoners clothes. She could only assume he was being transported when the fight began. And across from her sat a blonde man, probably around her age from his looks. He was roughed up and looked exhausted but alert. Light blue eyes stared back at her, more curious than angry.

"Hey you," he finally said, breaking the silence when she began to look away. "You're finally awake."

She nodded, a motion she regretted if only slightly. 

"You were trying to cross the border, right?" he asked.

"Y-yes," she stampered. Her throat was dry and she needed a drink of water. Wine would have been preferred though. "Well, sort of. I just crossed the border entering Skyrim actually." Her voice was harsh and low as she corrected herself. She didn't even recognize her own voice at this point.

He nodded before speaking again. "You walked right into that Imperial ambush, same as us... And that thief over there."

Before she could say anything else the thief in prisoners clothing spoke up. "Damn you Stormcloaks!" he growled, a scowl set on his face that only made him appear older than he probably was. "Skyrim was fine until you came along. The Empire was nice and lazy! If they hadn't been looking for you I could have stolen that horse and been halfway to Hammerfell by now." He growled again, clearly disgusted and upset at the current circumstances.

His head shot up quickly and he gave her a brief glance up and down. "You there! We shouldn't be here! It's these Stormcloaks the Empire wants." He voice was pleading, almost as though he was begging her to possibly escape with him and leave the others behind.

She looked around at the unfamiliar landscape. Was she really from here?

"We're all brothers... And sisters in binds now thief," the blonde man said calmly. She could detect a slight annoyance in his voice at their other riding companion and a soft grin spread across her lips. This one, she was going to hate see jailed for life. She imagined he had a witty and sarcastic personality. It made her briefly think of the brother she left behind in Corinth with her mother and father. The grin fell into a frown.

"Shut up back there!" the guard driving the cart yelled. It made her gaze shift to the front of the cart. She didn't know where they were. Her memories of the maps she had failed her.

She drowned out most of the following conversation between the soldier and the thief. She didn't care enough to focus on their hushed voices. She was beginning to regret leaving the caravans that she called home in hopes of finding whatever was missing from her soul in Skyrim. She had been happy. She traveled through most of southern Tamriel with the trading caravans of her Khajiit family and learned their cunning ways in the art of the merchants trade. They had also supported her when she began to show an interest in honing her magic skills and a desire to learn to wield weapons. They carved her into a fine merchant as well as bodyguard for their travels. 

Dra'asha, the leader of her caravan, had begin to speak openly about a change in her presence. She was becoming more restless and reckless. After a long discussion with the rest of the caravan it was decided that she would return home. Dra'asha sent her along her way a week later with as many supplies they could spare. _“The road will be long and the journey hard. But you will not face it all alone. Take comfort in this,"_ he had said.

And she had. She hadn't noticed the change in herself but the caravan had. Her parents had agreed that maybe she needed to return home, to Skyrim. _'Resign yourself to a glorious fate and know that heroes never truly die.'_

"...Jarl of Windhelm? You're the leader of the rebellion!" the thief exclaimed. She looked over at the man sitting next to her, bound and gagged. Her eyes drifted back to the thief. His own eyes had widened as a look of horror passed across his face, followed quickly by sorrow. "But if they've captured you..."

The man looked around, now seeming frantic and worried. "WHERE ARE THEY TAKING US?" he shouted. his voice was shaky and filled with fear. 

"I don't know where we're going, but Sovngarde awaits..." the soldier said quietly, voice filled with unspoken remorse.

A chill ran down her back as she turned to look toward the path before them. A small village was coming into view. A chill ran down her spine and she could feel her palms getting clammy. It suddenly felt like her heart was going to push out of her chest as it beat faster. She had heard about the civil war on her journey to Skyrim; she knew enough that the Stormcloaks and many natives believed that Ulfric was the true High King. Were they coming up on... Solitude?

She missed the next brief conversation between the soldier and thief, something about final thoughts and home. They were going to the executioner's block. There would be no trial. She would be considered one of the rebels and die with them before she could find her place in the chaotic world. "Arkay have mercy on our souls," she said under her breath. 

They entered the gates of the small town. She could see people coming out of their homes to watch as the carts passed. The soldier was talking about the Thalmor that were in the city speaking with the Imperial's military leader, obviously both present for the impending execution of the rebel leader Ulfric.

"This is Helgen. I used to be sweet on a girl from here." The soldier's voice changed slightly as he reminisced about the girl and a local mead. After a short pause he spoke up again. "Funny. When I was a boy Imperial walls and towers used to make me feel so safe."

She looked up, curious now. "What changed that?" she asked quietly. The soldier never responded and his eyes didn't meet hers. She didn't repeat the question as they passed homes and children were ordered to go inside. The carts were ordered to line up and hers came to a halt.

"Why are we stopping?" the thief asked as he looked at the guards and executioner waiting on them.

"Why do you think?" There was almost a chuckle in the soldier's voice. "End of the line."

Her eyes opened wide in fear. She could hear the soft murmur of voices around her. Everyone there was going to be executed without a trail. They weren't even trying to verify her story. “Please,” she called out to anyone willing to listen as the cart came to a stop. “I can verify who I am and my alibi! I just need time! Send a solider to Hearth's Fire Inn and speak with the innkeeper Ciistina in Bruma! Send word to my family in Corinth! Please just listen to me for once!”

They were ordered to get out of their cart. The solider that had spent the most time talking looked at her and motioned with his head for her to rise. “They don't care for alibi's, only blood and war,” he whispered as she rose in front of him. “We have allies here though. State your name and word will be sent to your family in Elsweyr.” His voice was low and sorrowful. He believed her but could do nothing to help her. She could hear it eating away at him in his voice.

“For what it's worth, welcome home.” Her eyes widen again at the soldier's words and she paused at the entrance to the cart. She could feel the tears swelling in her eyes. This was not the welcome she had wanted. 

“I SAID STEP DOWN PRISIONER!” one of the guards yelled. The anger in her voice was apparent.

“Let's go. Best to not to keep the Gods waiting on us,” the soldier whispered. She snapped back and hopped down from the cart. She stumbled slightly and almost fell flat on her face but regained her balance quickly enough. She could hear the man getting down behind her. 

“When you're name is called step to the block, one at a time.” One of the guards was standing before them with a list. She could hear the soldier make a comment under his breath about how the Empire loved their lists.

The thief was begging for his freedom. No one seemed to listen and she couldn't make herself care about his misfortune anymore. She was drowning in all her thoughts, how she would never going to see her family again or feel the warm evening breeze as she traveled close to the ocean's crystal blue waters. 

They called for Ulfric first. He stepped forward before moving to the block. He didn't fight back or try to run. She could see in his movements that he was defeated. They had caught him in a precarious position where fighting back could end whatever fir and rebellion he had started but knew going onward to death could fan the flames to an uncontrollable and all engulfing rage.

“Ralof of Riverwood.”

She watched the soldier move forward. “For what it's worth, I hope to see you again in Sovngarde,” she whispered. She watched the slight pause in his step and the way his head turned slightly towards her before he quietly continued on to the block.

“Lokir of Rorikstead.”

The thief didn't step forward. “NO! I'm not a rebel! You can't do this!”

“To. The. Block.” The guard captain wasn't impressed and more annoyed that he was still fighting them.

“YOU WON'T KILL ME!” With that, Lokir took off running.

The captain sighed as she slowly turned to watch. “Archers!”

She watched as an archer quickly drew his bow and notched an arrow. Within a breath he let it fly and a moment later Lokir was laying on the ground, motionless and quiet. She winced, assuming they were also using poison dipped arrows. 

“Anyone else feel like running?” the captain asked, turning around slowly only to stare her in the eyes. 

The guard reading from the list paused. He began to shuffle through his papers. 

“Hadvar. What's the hold up?” the captain asked.

“You. Step forward.”

She took a couple steps closer to the guards, silently praying to the Gods that they would finally listen to her. 

“She's not on the list Captain,” Hadvar said quietly, handing the papers over to his captain. She began to shuffle through them, double checking his work. “Who... Are you?” he finally asked.

She remembered Ralof's comment moment's before about how the Stormcloak's had allies watching. “I am Sigrada of Corinth, born in Ivarstead.” Her voice was loud and as clear as she could make it when she announced who she was. If she was going to die today, someone was going to send word to her family. They would at least know.

“You picked a bad time to come home kinsmen,” Hadvar said quietly. She could hear the slight remorse in his voice. He sighed deeply before looking over at the captain as she returned his record book. “What shall we do? She isn't on the lists Captain.”

“Forget the list,” the captain said. “She goes to the block.” With that the captain of the guard turned on her heels and walked toward the block herself to oversee the execution.

“By you're orders Captain.” Hadvar looked back to her and frowned. “I'm sorry,” he said quietly. “At least you'll be dying in your homeland.” He motioned for her to go on to the block.

Sigrada hung her head. “No. Elsweyr is my home. This is... Something else.” She wasn't sure what to think of the place she had been born anymore. She just turned and headed to the block. She couldn't run without being shot. Her hands were bound and she had no weapons. Her spells, though may allow her some minor offense, would do nothing to defend her from the arrows and swords of the soldiers present. 

When she reached the block she could see the general yelling at Ulfric. An obvious attempt to bring him lower in front of his men. The fire in Jarl's eyes told her the general's attempt was in vain and it made her smirk. She could at least get the satisfaction of knowing that Ulfric himself was going down beside her giving these Imperials a hard time and his middle finger.

A loud scream howled overhead and echoed on the wind. It was a sound she had never heard before and left an unsettling fear in her heart. But just as quickly as the fear came it was met with a fire that ignited within her soul that had been dying to set her ablaze for months now. While the rest of the people looked around questioning the sound and where it came it, she stood there quietly, confused at this sense of fear and desire for carnage that was tearing through her.

After a moment the general stepped back and ordered them to carry on with the execution and to begin giving them their rights. A priestess stepped forward and nodded. “Of course General Tullius.”

When the priestess finally began to speak and give them their final rites, a soldier from the another cart stepped forward. “Shut up! Let's just get this over with and stop wasting my damn time.” The priestess was obviously taken back as she stumbled over her words before huffing. “Alright,” she said. “Have it your way then.”

One of the Imperial guards grabbed the man by the back of his neck and used his foot to push at the bend of the man's knee, forcing him to the ground and forcing his head to rest along the block. 

“My ancestor's are smiling down at me. Can you say the same?” he asked as the executioner raised his ax. 

The sound of crunching bone and metal hitting stone filled the air. Sigrada forced herself to watch as the man's head as it rolled into the basket. She could feel her heart sinking to her feet as the contents of her stomach threatened to rise back up and come out. 

“As fearless in death as he was in life,” Ralof's voice echoed quietly as the rest of the soldiers shouted their curses and many of the townspeople shouted in their joy. She looked over at Ralof and stared at him. There was a certainty on his face that said he knew where his brother in arms was going and that he would join him soon enough. It was almost comforting to know that even in the face of death this man she had just met remained calm and collected as his brothers and sisters in arms screamed in their anger.

“Next. The nord in the rags,” the captain shouted.

“I said my name was Sigrada!” she protested.

Before the captain could speak up the scream came again. It sounded as though it was directly overhead in the clouds but also coming from all directions at once. The fear crept back in and just as before it was met with a raging fire and desire to fight back. Was it her own desire for survival, the flight or fight instinct? Or was it something else? She had to control her magic least she burst into flames. 

Hadvar looked around. “There it is again. What is that sound?”

The captain was obviously getting agitated. “I. Said. Next. Prisoner.”

Hadvar sighed as he turned and looked at her. “To the block Sigrada,” he said quietly. 

She stepped forward slowly. She could see the guard groaning, see her rolling her eyes as Hadvar used her name.

“Your dog can remember my name. Guess that makes him smarter then his master,” she commented with a grin. She could feel another guard grabbing her neck roughly and pushing with his foot at the bend of her knee until she went down to the block. The captain glanced over at the executioner. And nodded.

She turned her head to stare up at the executioner. She wanted to see his eyes as he killed her. And that's when she saw it. A massive black dragon coming in from above. The screaming came for a third time and she knew she wasn't the only one to see it. Several of the other prisoners were screaming and asking what the hell it was. 

The captain was calling for the sentries to report what they saw but it was too late. The dragon was landing on top of the tower that was closest to them. The force of its land was enough to shake the very earth beneath them and make several guards and the executioner fall over. She was lucky the ax didn't drop onto her head as the man stumbled and fell to the ground beside her.

The dragon opened its mouth and shouted. The skies darkened and fire begin to rain down from the clouds. What spell did this beast just cast? She had heard stories of the dragons using shouts to create chaos and reek havoc but she had never believed them. She had never really believed in dragon to be honest. They had always been far fetched tales told by weary travelers at the fire.

A second shout sent everyone falling back that had remained standing and she suddenly felt disoriented and dazed. Guards were screaming to get the townspeople to safety while other scattered. The screams around her were almost deafening as she tried regaining her balance. She only stumbled and fell back to the ground. 

A hand gripped her arm and lifted her up. “Get up Sigrada! The Gods won't give us another chance!” Ralof was helping her to her feet. He pulled her close to him and held onto her tightly. Even with his help she stumbled like a drunken fool as they began to move as quickly as possible to the watchtower that had been behind them. “Let's go!” he urged her. 

Just as they made it into the tower the door slammed shut behind them. She fell to her knees on the floor and shook her head. It felt like her mind was just as clouded as the skies and the ache that she had forgotten about had returned with a vengeance. Her body ached and refused to work. Ralof knelt down next to her, a hand resting between her shoulder blades as he reached out to her bound wrist. 

“What was that Jarl Ulfric? The legends can't be true?!” he said as the Jarl approached them. 

The older man's voice was calm. “Legends don't burn down entire villages. Get her up. We need to move now. We can't stay here.”

Ralof stood and looked around. “Up the stairs. If we get to the roof of the tower we may be able to use the roof of the inn that was next door to escape.” He began to go up the stairs before pausing after a few steps and ushering everyone to follow. 

“Untie me,” Sigrada called out as one of the soldiers passed. He either didn't hear her or he ignored her plea as he passed by and left her bound. Her voice was suddenly weak and shaky. She had just escaped death only to have to escape again instantly. She managed to rise to her feet and look around for a moment before running up the stairs and past Ralof who was still trying to rush a few wounded soldiers up.

She got halfway up when a loud crash came and she was sent flying back to the ground floor. She could see fire bellowing in from a hole created in the wall. The dragon was here and they weren't going to survive his wrath.

When she hit the ground the breath was knocked out of her and she felt a sharp pain shoot across her chest. Her hands glowed as she lifted them as much as she could and began to cast a healing spell on herself. She was struggling to regain her breath as Ralof returned to her side and knelt down. 

“By the nine! She's a mage! And she's alive still.”

“Get her up and let's go! We cannot linger any longer!” Ulfric demanded. “I don't care if she Talos' daughter just get her up now!”

Ralof begin pulling her up again. A sharp pain shot through her chest again but she was able to suck in a pained breath. “Gods bless you,” she wheezed as Ralof begin pulling her towards the stairs, practically carrying her for the second time that day. She continued casting a variety of healing spells on herself trying to fix any injuries from the fall.

Once they reached the hole the dragon had left in the wall she was breathing easier and moving on her own. Ralof was next to her staring out. They could all see the dragon circling overhead, shouting and breathing fire as he passed. 

“The inn over here. Jump through to the second story and just keep running. We'll be right behind you,” he said to her. 

Sigrada looked at him as though he lost his mind. She opened her mouth to protest but before she could say anything he was pushing her quickly towards the hole. She was left with no choice but to jump least fall to the ground below.

She landed on the second floor and rolled forward as best as she could in hopes of not hurting her feet and ankles. As she looked back the dragon was passing overhead and breathing fire, forcing the men in the watchtower still to fall back. “Keep running! We'll meet up with you again! Just stay alive and make it to the main keep!” Ralof shouted at her as he backed away from the opening. “RUN WOMAN!”

She shook her head to get the last few cobwebs out and took off, looking for any way to get down to the first floor. She didn't have the luxury of waiting to see where the soldiers came out at or what they were going to do. 

“Gods be with you Ralof,” she said as she spotted a hole in the floor that would allow her to drop down to the main hall of the inn. She looked around, making sure there was no other way down before jumping. She lost her balance and fell again as soon as her feet hit the ground. She laid there for a moment, wondering what would happen if she didn't get up. She could possibly live through a dragon attack but she may not survive the Imperial guards that would be crawling through the city once the smoke cleared and the dust settled.

She rose to her feet and moved to a hole in the wall. Hadvar was running towards the inn with another man and a small child. When he saw her he motioned for her to come forward.

“Oh no!” Sigrada protested. “You sent me to my death once, I won't let you do it again!”

The boy took cover behind a pile of wood and rocks, the other man taking place behind him and using his own body to protect the child's. Hadvar motioned again. “Not this time. I swear by the eight I will fight to keep you alive once this over!” 

Sigrada paused. She wasn't in any position to really argue. Her hands were still bound and she had no other weapons besides her spells. She stepped towards the guard. She would have to trust him. She turned to look at the child and man when Hadvar crashed into her. 

“GET DOWN! THE DRAGON IS LANDING!” he shouted. Just as she hit the ground and Hadvar landed on her a loud scream echoed in the open space around them and fire washed over them. The heat was unbearable and suddenly Hadvar felt like he weighed 100 times more then he really did.

Once the dragon had taken to the air again and was a safe distance away Hadvar got up. “Are you still alive prisoner?”

“My name is Sigrada damn it!” she shouted. She glared at guard as he leaned down and helped her to her feet. 

“I know,” he said with a chuckle as he held onto her arm, ensuring she had her balance before letting her go. “Are you alright?” he asked.

She glared at him but nodded. “Untie me and I can help fight this damned thing,” she said as she held her arms up to Hadvar. She watched him draw his sword and take her hands, readying to cut her ties when another scream echoed through the air and they both stumbled. She was lucky Hadvar had a tight grip on her wrist or she may have fallen again. She was even luckier that she didn't get impaled on the end of his sword as they both stumbled.

“No time! He exclaimed as he turned his attention to the sky, trying to locate the dragon. “We need to get to the keep to stay alive. Stay close to me Sigrada.” With that he took off. “Watch after the child and get to safety!” he called back to the man.

Sigrada followed him quickly, not having any other choice. She stayed close behind him, hoping nothing came raining down from above that would force them to separate. If she came across any other Imperial guard she might not be as lucky as she had been so far. It was likely if she was seen with anyone else but Hadvar they would simply kill her on sight.

She was about to pull ahead of Hadvar when he reached out and grabbed her by the tunic to pull her back roughly. She felt his arms wrap around her waist and saw the sword in his hands in front of her. “It's coming around again. Stay close to the wall,” he said. 

As soon as he finished his sentence the dragon landed right over them. Sigrada's eyes widen as she watched it breathe fire down on the surrounding buildings. Her mind was screaming at her to use the chance to untie herself on his swords blade but her body was frozen and refused to move. Even after the dragon returned to the sky above and was circling she still couldn't move. She was busy watching the dragon.

Hadvar grabbed her wrists and yanked her forward. “We need to get going!” there was a panic in his eyes even though his voice was steady. She nodded as she took a cautious step forward, then another and another, her eyes glancing up to the sky every so often. Hadvar tugged on her wrist, urging her to move faster. 

They passed through what had once been a house or small shop but was now left in a heap of fire and ruins. They came to a large clearing. A mercenary was laying on the ground clutching at his side and groaning from an injury while mages threw fireballs and archers kept notching arrows and firing them at the dragon in rapid succession. Sigrada couldn't help but feel as though these mages were far from smart as they threw fireballs at a fire breathing dragon. Ice spears would have been a much better choice.

“Get to the keep Hadvar. Take that useless prisoner with you! We're retreating! We can't beat this damned beast!” a fellow guard shouted.

“I wouldn't be useless if you would fucking untie my hands you damned piece of skeever dropping!” Sigrada shouted back at the man. “And use an frost attack you fucking idiots!” she shouted at the nearest mage. It did no good as Hadvar grabbed her arm and took off towards the keep.

“Now isn't the time to pick a fight with the legion Sigrada.”

“Then untie me so I can help you fight the fucking dragon!” she screamed as she ran towards the keep. “At least let me help evacuate the village! There are still families trapped in some of those burning buildings and their being left to die! I can at least put out those flames to give them a damned chance of surviving!”

Hadvar passed through a gate and let Sigrada go. He was quiet and never answered her as they came to the keep. She had to stop as a man appeared in front of them.

“Ralof! YOU DAMNED TRAITOR!” Hadvar shouted angrily. “OUT OF OUR WAY!”

“You're not stopping us Hadvar! We're escaping and Sigrada is coming with us! You can't stop us this time!”

Sigrada watched Hadvar looked towards her. “The woman can choose for herself. But I hope that damned dragon takes you and your Jarl to Sovngarde!”

With that both men went towards separate entrances to the keep. She could hear both men yelling at her to follow. She looked over to Hadvar and shook her head. She could see the disappointment wash over his face as she turned and followed Ralof into the keep. 

She didn't see Hadvar take a step towards her before another guard came up and stopped him. “She made her choice. You will see her again. Don't let her get away when that day comes. Either make her see the Empire's way or send her to Sovngarde.” Hadvar nodded and went on into the keep escape himself.

The door closed loudly behind Ralof and he took the bar and used it to lock the door shut and bar it from the inside, preventing any other Imperial guards from coming through as well as his fellow Stormcloaks. There was already a dead Stormcloak soldier laying on the ground. Ralof was quiet as he stepped towards the body. Sigrada took a moment to fall to her knees and try to make sense of everything that had just happened, and was still taking place outside.

She looked up when Ralof approached her and took her hands into his, a dagger in one hand, and finally cut her free. He was quiet. It seemed unnatural for him. In the brief time she had known him he had been almost constantly talking. His silence was unnerving and in the pit of her stomach she wondered if she had made the right choice coming with this man. She had no armor and no weapons. And something in the back of her mind said he wouldn't fall too easily if she set him ablaze or froze him. His eyes stayed focus on her and she swallowed hard. 

“It's true,” he said. His voice was just above a whisper. “A dragon, just like the children's tales and legends. Harbingers of the end times.”


End file.
